


(for you) my heart is steady ground

by kunimi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Azumane Asahi, Nonbinary Character, another game of spot the rarepair in the background lmao, mentions of kunimi kenma kuroo daichi bokuto hinata osamu, spoiler alert: atsusunanoya is one of them, this is just them in LOVE and their friends' shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27010039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimi/pseuds/kunimi
Summary: “Do I get a kiss?” Suga asks, looking up at the two of them. He’s pouting, but it’s clearly an act, his eyes hopelessly warm as he drinks in the sight of them together. Asahi feels a rush of fondness for him—for both of them, for this life the three of them have built for themselves, with their eclectically-decorated apartment and kitchen full of love and light.“Absolutely not,” Hajime says, wrapping his arms around Asahi’s middle. At Suga’s squawk of protest, Hajime laughs, Asahi chuckling alongside him. “I’m not kissing you until I’m not liable to turn pink for doing it,” Hajime teases.“Asahi will kiss me, won’t you, Asahi?” Suga declares, appealing to Asahi.“No,” Asahi says.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Iwaizumi Hajime/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34
Collections: Haikyuu Rarepair Exchange 2020





	(for you) my heart is steady ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squirkless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirkless/gifts).



> hi amber! when i read your dear creator letter, i saw asaiwa + polyamory + cuddles, and then saw your [pink-haired suga art](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCFobCDga8F/), and immediately visualised this. i tried to work in all the ships and tropes you mentioned in your letter, and as many characters that you wanted as possible. i really hope you enjoy!!

“Okay,” Asahi says, looking seriously at Suga. “Last chance to back out. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Suga, because he is a menace, just laughs. “Don’t look so worried, Asahi! It’s my hair! What are you so worried about?”

“One of us has to be!” Asahi cries out. “What if it—what if it looks _terrible?”_

Suga gives them an affronted look. “Why would it look terrible?” he demands, hands on his hips. “Do you think I can’t pull it off?”

“No, of course not,” Asahi rushes to reassure him. In fact, they think it’ll look good. _Really_ good. Admittedly, they think Suga would manage to look like a knockout even if he cut his hair into a mullet and went around wearing a hazmat suit instead of the jumpers he’s always stealing from Hajime, but they genuinely do think if anyone they know could make pink hair look good, it’s Sugawara Koushi. They’re just… nervous. It’s how their brain works. Sometimes all they can do is think about all the things that could go wrong.

But Sugawara Koushi is not them, and his face softens into a smile that still has mischief playing at its edges, but is more gentle than it was before.

“It’ll be fine, Asahi,” he says, voice impossibly warm, impossibly steady, like Asahi can fall into it and know he’ll catch them every time. “Besides,” he adds, with a wicked grin, “no matter what, it’ll be worth it to see the look on Kuroo’s face, right?”

Asahi huffs a laugh. They remember the way Kuroo’s lips had twisted into a smirk when he’d originally goaded Suga into this hair dye scheme, saying _you won’t, Suga-chan_ , dancing out of the way of Daichi’s elbows. To Daichi’s credit, Asahi muses, he _had_ tried to keep his boyfriend from challenging his best friend to drastic aesthetic changes; unfortunately, Kuroo and Suga were both troublesome individually, and tended to be unstoppably chaotic when together. Still, they don’t think Kuroo really believed that Suga would _do_ it, so they think Suga’ll probably get his wish of startling him. They just hope it’ll be worth whatever reaction he gets when he shows up at school with _bright pink hair_.

“All right,” they say, picking up the gloves from the hair dye kit and carefully pulling them on. They take a deep breath, then smile at Suga. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Yessssss!” Suga cheers, leaning forward to press a kiss to their cheek. “All right, hang on a sec, I’ll go put on a playlist and then let’s get started.”

Asahi raises an eyebrow at him, but all they feel is fondness. “Do you have a hair dyeing playlist?” they ask, before rolling their eyes. “What am I saying? Of _course_ you have a hair dyeing playlist.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh away,” Suga says, sticking his tongue out at Asahi as he scrolls through Spotify on his phone. “You’re just jealous you don’t have as many excellent playlists as me.”

“It haunts me,” Asahi says dryly.

Suga ignores this, adopting a lofty expression. It quickly melts into glee; a second later, an extremely familiar bubblegum pop song starts streaming through the portable speaker Suga has set up on their kitchen bench, and Asahi stifles a laugh.

“Isn’t this the song you used to serenade Hajime when you were drunk in second year, that night after his last exam?” they ask, voice fond and amused.

“Yep!” Suga says without a lick of embarrassment. “It’s a good song!”

Asahi rolls their eyes, which provokes Suga to pick up a spatula and wave it threateningly in their direction. “I wasn’t going to say anything!” Asahi defends. “I would never insult your taste.”

“Good,” Suga says, eyeing them warily, but he—thankfully—puts down the spatula. Asahi pats the chair they’ve set up in the middle of the kitchen, newspapers spread around their feet. 

“C’mere,” they say, and Suga beams at them, before sitting himself down in the seat.

Ten minutes later finds Suga singing along to his playlist at an incredibly loud volume, with absolutely no care for the fact that he’s incredibly off-key; Asahi’s hands in his hair, massaging the vibrant colour into his scalp; and Hajime appearing at the edge of the kitchen, lips quirked up in a half-smile. 

“Stop dancing!” Asahi begs. They’re trying their best to cover all of Suga’s hair in pink without covering all his skin too, but it’s made difficult by Suga’s refusal to stop dancing in his seat.

“Causing trouble for poor Asahi?” Hajime asks, leaning against the wall.

“Never,” Suga says—a blatant lie—at the exact same time that Asahi exhales an exasperated “ _yes_ ,” before frowning down at their boyfriend. 

“Asahi!” Suga protests, turning in his seat to look up at them. “I am an angel.”

Hajime snorts at that, and Suga whips his head back around to pout at him. Rolling his eyes, Hajime pushes off from against the wall and comes closer.

“Pink, huh?” he asks, squinting at Suga’s hair.

“I feel like I’ve committed a murder,” Asahi says forlornly, staring down at their gloved hands, covered in dye that looks almost red.

Hajime chuckles and leans over to press a kiss to their cheek. Their skin feels warm with the imprint of his lips, and they smile back at him once he breaks away.

“Do I get a kiss?” Suga asks, looking up at the two of them. He’s pouting, but it’s clearly an act, his eyes hopelessly warm as he drinks in the sight of them together. Asahi feels a rush of fondness for him—for both of them, for this life the three of them have built for themselves, with their eclectically-decorated apartment and kitchen full of love and light.

“Absolutely not,” Hajime says, wrapping his arms around Asahi’s middle. At Suga’s squawk of protest, Hajime laughs, Asahi chuckling alongside him. “I’m not kissing you until I’m not liable to turn pink for doing it,” Hajime teases.

“Asahi will kiss me, won’t you, Asahi?” Suga declares, appealing to Asahi.

“No,” Asahi says.

“Betrayal on all fronts,” Suga says dramatically, lifting his hand to press against his forehead in a display of melodrama. Hajime catches it before he can, though, moving with all the speed and dexterity that earned him the title of ace back in high school.

“You’ll get dye on your hand,” he admonishes, and Suga’s expression turns sheepish.

“Whoops,” he says, and Hajime rolls his eyes.

“Sit still so Asahi can finish,” he tells him, but his voice is affectionate, smoothing the rougher edges of his tone. Asahi thinks they could spend forever unravelling the notes of Hajime’s voice, that they could replay all his huffs of laughter and exasperated noises and never get bored of any of it.

“I think I’m done, actually,” Asahi says, surveying their work. “So you just have to sit still for twenty minutes, and then you can wash it off.”

“Sit still? Impossible,” Hajime says, grinning when Asahi chuckles and Suga makes an affronted noise.

“No faith,” Suga says, shaking his head.

“I grew up with Oikawa,” Hajime reminds him dryly. “I know _exactly_ how troublesome setters can be.”

“I can’t believe you’re comparing me to Oikawa,” Suga grumbles, but Hajime just shares an amused look with Asahi. He moves his other arm from where it’s resting around Asahi’s waist and pulls one of their kitchen stools around from the other side of the bench, positioning it so he can lean against the bench while he sits on it. He sits down, then pulls out his phone.

Asahi carefully pulls off their gloves and places them in the now-empty box all the hair dye components came in, and deposits the empty bottles into it as well. They’ve just put it in the rubbish bin when they hear Hajime snort, and they glance up at him.

“Look at this snapchat Kunimi sent me,” Hajime says, brandishing his phone in their direction. Suga is making grabby hands as well, so Asahi takes the phone and leans down to be closer to Suga so they can both look at the screen.

When Asahi registers what they’re looking at, they snort. About a third of the screen looks to be Kenma’s head; Asahi assumes he’s slumped against his boyfriend’s chest, and that Kunimi couldn’t be bothered to move either himself or his boyfriend to get a better photo of the rest of the chaos in frame. That, or he didn’t _want_ to separate from Kenma. Not that he would ever admit to that, Asahi thinks wryly.

Past Kenma’s head, Asahi can see Kuroo lying on the ground, a hand pressed dramatically to his forehead, not unlike what Suga attempted to do before Hajime stopped him. One of Kuroo’s legs is upright, despite the rest of his body being splayed across the floor, and there’s a Wii remote somewhere to the left of him. Daichi is standing over him, hands on his hips, which is _such_ a familiar position that Asahi immediately thinks of their high school years, particularly their third year when Daichi was captain. His expression isn’t stern at all, though; at least not in any way that’s convincing. He looks exasperated, but amused despite himself, and _so_ fond of Kuroo that Asahi almost looks away. 

There is also, for reasons utterly beyond Asahi’s understanding, a cat with its tail wrapped around Daichi’s leg. The cat is wearing what looks like a Bouncing Ball-branded sweater, which Asahi hadn’t even realised _people_ could get, let alone _cats_.

Kunimi’s caption does not shed much light on the situation: _mitski chose her captain of choice_.

“Did Kenma’s cat choose Daichi over Kuroo?” Suga asks, laughing.

Hajime shrugs. “Honestly, with a name like that, it might be Kunimi’s,” he says. “But yeah, looks like it. I’ll ask what brought Kuroo to this low point in life.”

“Kenma might have let Kunimi name the cat,” Asahi suggests. Which doesn’t sound much like Kenma, but before he and Kunimi met each other, nobody thought Kenma would have much interest in physical affection either. It’s not like they’re ever particularly extravagant, Asahi muses, but it’s the little things. The way Kenma likes to keep Kunimi’s jackets, the way Kunimi deliberately lets his hand brush against Kenma’s, the way they slot together in the corner of the room and watch over everyone else with quiet amusement and dry commentary.

Hajime looks thoughtful. “It would honestly not surprise me if they decided to move in together and told absolutely nobody,” he says dryly. “Not that they could really keep that from Kuroo,” he tacks on, “considering he’s almost always at Kenma’s.”

“Daichi should tell his boyfriend to stop being a leech,” Suga says, sounding pleased with himself. He glances at Asahi. “How much longer have I got?”

Asahi checks their phone, then notices a notification. “Uh, about twelve minutes,” they say, then tap on the text alert.

 **Noya:** ASAHI HOW DO YOU SANITISE A CARPET

Asahi blinks. They squint at their phone, ascertain that they did read the text correctly, and sigh.

 **Asahi:** I have no idea. With carpet cleaner, I guess?? Why do you have to sanitise a carpet??

 **Noya:** ATSUMU

Asahi frowns. While they don’t doubt Atsumu could have done something that would merit carpet sanitisation, it’s still not exactly an explanation. They begin typing _what about Atsumu_ when their phone starts vibrating. 

**FACETIME CALL: Noya**

Asahi taps accept, and suddenly their screen is filled with the MSBY Black Jackals’ training dorms. The dishwasher seems to have _erupted_ , somehow, and there’s liquid everywhere. In the background, Sakusa looks appalled. Asahi is willing to guess that he’s the only reason anyone is considering sanitising anything. Not for the first time, they thank the gods that Sakusa Kiyoomi joined the Black Jackals, because he’s probably the only one keeping some of their friends clean.

Miya Osamu is standing at Sakusa’s side, and he seems to be rubbing Sakusa’s back comfortingly. More surprisingly, Sakusa is actually leaning _into_ his touch. Asahi makes up their mind to ask Nishinoya about that—later, though, when there isn’t a dishwasher causing havoc in a room full of adults.

Speaking of, they can see Suna perched on the edge of the bench—Asahi assumes Sakusa is too busy focusing on the dishwasher fiasco to scowl at him for it—and Nishinoya is clearly holding his phone, but Asahi can’t see anyone else. A second later, they can hear Hinata’s voice, and Bokuto’s familiar laughter, but still no Atsumu.

“Noya?” Asahi asks. They can feel Hajime moving to stand beside them, staring curiously at their phone screen.

“Asahi!” Nishinoya yells back, and switches the camera view around so his face suddenly fills the screen. Suga stands and angles his head so he can see from the top of the screen. He’s keeping a careful distance from Hajime and Asahi, probably to protect them from his hair dye, but something about the three of them crowded around this phone screen strikes Asahi right in the heart anyway. It feels like something slotting into their chest, but not a revelation; more like a reminder, like every time they’re together, it feels like coming home again. It is not grand or striking, but something quiet and steady; not earth-shattering, but stable ground. Asahi wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Hey Noya!” Suga says cheerfully.

“Suga-san! Is that blood in your hair?” Nishinoya asks. Alarmingly, he doesn’t sound remotely perturbed by this. Sometimes Asahi worries about him. “Hey, Iwaizumi!”

“Yo,” Hajime says, then squints at the screen. “Was that Hinata?”

Nishinoya glances up, then nods enthusiastically at the camera. “Yeah, Shouyou went and found a mop to try get rid of some of the water. Oh, yeah, so, this is why we need to sanitise the carpet,” he says, looking at Asahi.

“What happened?” Asahi asks. They can tell they sound a little anxious, but they can’t help it; how did they manage to destroy a _dishwasher?_

Nishinoya shrugs. “Atsumu says it’s Bokuto’s fault, Bokuto says he doesn’t remember doing anything, and Rin says it’s Atsumu’s fault, but he’d say that no matter what, so nobody’s sure,” he recounts, then pauses. “Oh, and Sakusa says it doesn’t matter whose fault it is, just everyone has to make sure it’s fixed or he’s never coming back to the dorms.” He brightens. “It was really funny, actually, because Atsumu was like _well, where are ya gonna go?_ And Sakusa fucking _blushed_ , but then glared straight at Atsumu, and tucked his hand into Osamu’s jacket—who looked, like, surprised but also pleased?—and anyway, that’s how Atsumu found out Sakusa and Osamu are dating.” Nishinoya cackles, which Asahi thinks is a surprising reaction to one of his boyfriends having a crisis over his brother’s love life, but then again, it’s Noya, who has never reacted to anything the way Asahi would. “Rin got it all on film, which is the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Nishinoya tacks on.

“Rude!” Atsumu yells from somewhere in the background. “Datin’ me should be the best thing that ever happened t’ya!”

“What about me, jackass?” Suna calls out.

Atsumu makes a rude noise. “What _about_ ya?” he demands. “I’m clearly the better boyfriend. I dunno why I even put up with ya. Yuu, let’s dump Rin. He’s draggin’ us down!”

Hajime raises his eyebrow. “They’re as bad as Matsukawa and Hanamaki,” he mutters.

Suga laughs. “Are you kidding? They’re _much_ worse,” he chortles.

“Oh, Suga, you should go wash it out,” Asahi says, suddenly noticing the time. Suga lets out a tiny, dignified shriek, then rushes out of the kitchen. He almost immediately returns, and Asahi’s brow knits in confusion.

“Bye Noya!” Suga calls out. “Send me photos of the carnage!”

“Will do!” Nishinoya says, and with that promise, Suga runs off to shower.

In the background of the call, Atsumu and Suna seem to still be arguing. Asahi thinks they see Bokuto wielding a mop similarly to how one would hold a sword, and they can hear Hinata and Sakusa arguing with him about how to actually use a mop effectively.

“Are they okay?” Asahi asks, fretting slightly. They’re not sure if they mean Nishinoya’s boyfriends or the three arguing about the mop, but it’s probably both.

“Oh, yeah, this happens all the time,” Nishinoya says breezily.

Hajime and Asahi exchange a look. “Flooding your dorms because someone fucked up a dishwasher happens all the time,” Hajime says flatly.

Nishinoya scrunches up his nose. “Okay, maybe not that _specifically_ , but there’s always something going wrong whenever I visit,” he says.

“There is always something going wrong here in general,” Sakusa mutters, walking past Nishinoya in the background of the call. Osamu seems to have wrestled the mop from Bokuto and is cleaning up some of the water, which—Asahi means with full affection for Bokuto—is a great relief.

“I really have no idea how to sanitise a carpet,” Asahi says helplessly.

“Probably chuck a fuckload of baking soda on the carpet or something,” Hajime says. “But their coaches have got to be used to this level of bullshit by now, right? Just call one of the coaches or management team or something, they’ll figure it out.”

“You’re a genius, Iwaizumi,” Nishinoya says seriously. “Oi!” he yells over his shoulder. “Asahi has a way smarter boyfriend than either of mine, because he says we should call your coach.”

There’s the immediate sounds of protests from Atsumu and Suna—loud and offended from Atsumu, dry and amused from Suna—but Nishinoya ignores this, instead looking at Hinata, who already has his phone out, presumably to call his coach.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san!” Hinata calls out from across the room, and Hajime smiles.

“All right, I should probably go kiss Atsumu’s big cry-baby pout better,” Nishinoya says, cackling again when Atsumu squawks in protest of the description. “Thanks for the help! Asahi, we still on for Skype this weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Asahi promises, and they’re rewarded with a beam from their younger friend.

“Sweet! Talk to you then!” Nishinoya says, waving at the camera, and then he ends the call.

Asahi exhales a sigh of relief, which makes Hajime chuckle.

“He’s always been a whirlwind, huh?” Hajime says, and Asahi nods.

“I love him dearly, but he’s terrible for my blood pressure,” Asahi grumbles, and Hajime snickers.

“C’mon,” he says, nudging Asahi with his shoulder. “After all that, I want to relax. Suga probably wants to do a big reveal, right? Let’s go wait for him in the bedroom.”

Hajime captures Asahi’s hand in his, and Asahi follows. They think they’d follow him anywhere, everywhere, wherever he wanted to go. They don’t seek adventure; this warm, beautiful thing that blooms in their chest, in the spaces between their fingers and Hajime’s and Suga’s, is all the adventure they need.

Flicking on the lights, Hajime clambers on top of the bed, nestling himself against the mound of cushions Suga keeps on their bed at all times, and then pats the space next to him. Asahi rolls their eyes a little, but they smile softly, climbing onto the bed and settling themself next to him. Hajime wraps an arm around their shoulders, and they lean into his warmth, snuggling into his chest. Hajime presses a kiss to their forehead, and they sigh contentedly.

 _Yes_ , Asahi thinks. This warmth unfurling in their chest is all the adventure they need.

“Room for one more?” Suga asks, something wicked and teasing in his voice, and Asahi shifts so they can face him. They gasp at the sight of him. His hair is _very_ pink, and Asahi genuinely thinks it’s not biased to say it looks _very_ good.

“Good gasp or bad gasp?” Suga asks, hand on his hip.

Hajime snorts. “That was definitely a good gasp, you drama queen,” he says, but his eyes are fond. He reaches out with the arm that isn’t wrapped around Asahi’s shoulders, and Suga takes his hand. Hajime _pulls_ , and Suga falls onto the bed, on the other side of Asahi.

“Menace,” Suga says, but he’s laughing, and gods, Asahi’s chest feels so warm.

It takes some rearranging of pillows and manoeuvring of limbs, but before too long, Asahi finds themself in the middle of a three-way cuddle session; Hajime on their right, arm wrapped around their shoulders, and Suga on their left, snuggled into their side, his head resting on their chest.

Asahi strokes Suga’s hair, running their fingers through it, marvelling at the way pink splays across their skin. They lean down to press a kiss to Suga’s hair, and then Suga tilts his head up, capturing their lips with his own. It’s a sweet kiss, soft and chaste, and filled with so much love that Asahi thinks they might overflow with it.

They break apart, and Suga grins, before resting his cheek against Asahi’s chest again. His hand reaches out to Hajime’s, who takes it without question, interlacing their fingers together. It makes Asahi’s heart hurt, watching the way the boys they love so easily reach for each other, because Asahi’s heart is a tender thing, and the way they all move together tugs on every one of their heartstrings.

“Hey,” Hajime says softly, and Asahi glances up at him. Hajime smiles at them, shifting a little to nuzzle against their face. Asahi angles their head, slotting their mouths together, and hums against his lips. Kissing Suga feels like wearing their favourite sweater, tastes like cinnamon sugar and chai lattes. Kissing Hajime feels like a hand helping them up, tastes like peppermint candy and black coffee. Asahi wonders what they taste like to them, what they feel like. Asahi wonders what they taste like to each other, what they feel like to each other.

All Asahi knows is that the three of them together feels like fingers interlaced together, hand in hand in hand, like coming in from the cold. All Asahi knows is that the three of them together feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> another game of spot the rarepair in the background! i hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> you can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/)
> 
> fic post on twitter can be found [here!](https://twitter.com/kurokenns/status/1316447852189675520?s=20)


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